Alpha
by EveNee
Summary: AU Normal setting and plot only Reese has a bit of a surprise when he wakes up one morning. Lonewolf as to defend his mate while still keeping his life's priorities in check. M for later Special Thanks to Mamahub!
1. Chapter 1

**Please R&R or I lose inspiration 3**

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Chapter 1: Lonewolf

It was a normal morning, sitting in front of the numerous computer monitors, waiting for a new Number to be presented. That was, until, Finch's phone went off, vibrating a bit across the desk. He reached for it casually, still typing with one hand to sort out the finer details of a new alias he was constructing for Reese. When he flipped the small phone open, his head cocked to the side and confusion etched itself across his face. He read the text message to himself once, then aloud to verify what it read.

From: Reese

Subject: Come pick me up.

It was short and to the point, like Reese usually conveyed his messages, but this had a certain air about it. It was demanding; not to say Reese wasn't a dominant figure and pushy with Finch sometimes, but this was a command, one Finch assumed he _had_ to obey. He shoved the phone into his beige pants, rose up on his tired legs, and threw his overcoat over his shoulders. He hobbled down to the ground floor and went out the back entrance, reminding himself to take his own car. He slid into the off silver 1992 Buick Century he had parked a few blocks away and planned a route to Reese's loft that required a bit of 'out of the way' turns and double backs. This car was not his favorite due to the sauna-like interior it produced, but it had a certain appeal in the way the seats supported his sore body just the right way. He didn't mind it at all after the a/c cooled the small rectangular space off and settled on the thought of a long, peaceful car ride. Reese would just have to wait, considering he never sent a follow-up text to express any certain urgency in the matter.

The ride was about an hour long, not as long as Finch would have liked to have been sitting, even in the comfortable car seat, but enough to get his point across that he wasn't one to be taking orders. He went up to the third floor of the building and limped along the wall, refusing to take its support as his right side throbbed but allowing the option if necessary. He reached Reese's door and gave the knob a turn. Surprisingly, it was unlocked. His body tensed and he eased the door open with a nearly audible gulp. What if that text wasn't from Reese, but someone who was after them? He peeked in the room, seeing no signs of struggle, which he knew Reese would put up if he was being attacked.

"Up here," John's voice rang out in the large, empty room from above. He sounded annoyed with a bit of anger.

Finch slipped inside and locked the door behind him. He tried his best to crane his head upwards, looking at the open, second floor of the loft. Reese was pacing on that platform, back and forth very restlessly. Finch could hardly tell why since he couldn't get a good look that high up because of his neck injury. But, after a while of Finch struggling, trying to elevate his gaze and sizing up the stairs to the second floor, Reese sighed and made a noise deep in his throat like a dog did when in submission. The ex-operative moved towards the stairs and took each step slowly, his usually flawless gait replaced by heavy, dreadful steps.

Reese reached the bottom step, hands in his suit pockets, head turned down and his back slouched. It looked as if he tried to tuck the white dress shirt into his unbelted pants but tore it back out in frustration. The shirt wasn't even buttoned fully, leaving a long, deep triangle of tanned skin down the crease of Reese's chest and nearly to his navel. Finch limped over to him and lifted his employee's head by tilting his chin back. By what he saw, he wasn't amused.

"What the hell is this?" He nearly shouted at Reese, taking a step back from the sight.

Reese shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head up to show the soft twitch of a pair of grizzled wolf ears that rested in his unruly bedhead hair. His usually hard, steely blue eyes were a light shade of gray. He also gave a slight turn of his hips, showing the wave of plush, salt and pepper tail that hung limp down to the back of his knees.

"This isn't a funny joke, Mr. Reese. Take those off and clean yourself up." Finch turned after that brief scolding and headed for the door, a small bit of anger boiling inside him. Reese teased him, daily, but this was taking it too far.

Before Finch could reach the door, he was snagged by the upper arm and dragged deeper into the room. Reese led him back to the bed, nearly tossing him to it. He sat where he was tossed and reset his glasses, a hard glare set behind them. He was _not _finding this funny at all, and Reese was being a bit too domineering this morning for his liking.

Reese gave a sigh as he stood before Finch and turned away from the bed, leaving his back to Finch. The once limp tail moved, gave a swish. Finch was bemused, considering how he previously thought it was a simple toy. He reached out and gave it a generous squeeze, sending a jolt through Reese's body and making him jump with a low howl.

"You're not kidding?" Finch shot a glace up at Reese who was looking beggingly over his shoulder.

Reese moved the tail a bit more willingly, wrapping half of it around Finch's forearm. From over his shoulder he tilted his head up, closing his eyes to inhale slowly. His worried features softened to a bright smile. He turned to face Finch, denying the bewildered man any more time to fondle his fluffy appendage.

"Halston cologne. Citrusy," Reese added as a confirmation of his enhanced olfactory senses, swiping his nose with his thumb before he straightened his back and folded his arms across his chest.

"I don't understand. This only happens, rarely, in teenagers with extremely high levels of hormones. It used to be frequent but there is hardly a case in this age. Man has nearly lost that trait entirely. How... even so, why would it show so late? Wait, Mr. Reese, did you have any symptoms?" Finch turned his head up, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"What symptoms, Finch? I didn't even know what happened. God forbid I was cursed for something by one of the damned Numbers that had a vendetta. You know you send me into 'forgotten' neighborhoods most of the time, right?" Reese took a breath and lowered his head, rolling it to the sides and back until his joints relaxed. "What are the symptoms?"

Finch's pale eyes rolled up to the right side of his vision and his lips moved silently, recalling all the information he had on this strange abnormality.

"Mr. Reese, the most prominent symptom that all of the 'patients', so to say, had was, bear with me, being love-struck. Which is why it was found in teenagers with high levels of hormones. Adults learned to control it and were never as dumbfounded by love as teenagers. Are you in love, Mr. Reese?" Finch inquired quietly while fixing his glasses and giving Reese an endearing look. That had to be the most personal question Finch ever asked Reese. _He clearly didn't hear himself ask it because Finch would never dare to cross that invisible line and impeach on Reese's personal life. These men never dug deeper into each others lives than what was on paper and in files._

"I... Finch," Reese started, pausing to rest his head in his hand and shake it back and forth. His voice came off a bit deeper as he looked up to the intrigued man sitting on the edge of his bed and answered with, "Any other symptoms?"

Finch chuckled and gave a soft smile, a very rare happening that was expressed with true feelings behind it. "Mr. Reese, are you embarrassed perhaps? I won't stalk her, or knock on her front door like someone I know," he raised an eyebrow to the half wolf operative.

Reese's nose flared as he groaned. He took a step towards Finch, and the computer engineer reared against the bed with a sudden, faint fear in his eyes as he was towered over by the half beast. Reese's jaw clenched multiple times as he hovered over his boss attempting to control the obvious feelings that were taking over his body. He thrust both hands into the mattress by Finch's head and stared into the pale blue eyes. He didn't have to see it; he could _smell_the fear coming off this mask-wearing man.

"Maybe I am in love. Do you really want to know with whom, Finch?" Reese lowered his head closer, bringing their faces just inches apart. Finch's lips parted, practically begging to be taken in a kiss.

Just as Reese bent his head to take his prey, Finch jumped up, bashing their heads together. Reese stumbled back, not expecting any sort of brutal force to come from the man he rightfully refused to let do simple recon field work. A verbal assault should have followed, and Reese turned his fuzzy ears down expecting it; but it never came. He glanced up to see Finch fumbling to retrieve his phone from his pocket. His boss flipped the phone open and his features settled.

"Another Number," he gave in a pleased sigh.

Reese growled lowly in his throat, running his hand back through his hair. As he did, he noticed his new ears shrinking to little nubs then vanishing completely. He turned in place, trying to see his tail, which was gone. His urges for Finch had been stifled by work.

"Work calls, Mr. Reese. Well, at least I can use you in public now. You should wear a hat, just in case you can't keep your 'emotions' under control." Finch pushed his phone back inside his pocket and got up, smoothing out his three piece suit.

Reese took a deep breath as he thought about the Machine and their profession; how it took Finch further and further away from him, setting up a barrier that was almost impossible to break. He felt his eyes shift as well as his body, sprouting the ears and tail, his eyes fading to a foggy gray color with small hint of blue left.

Finch reached out as Reese went through the transformation. He reached high to run his hands through the grizzled hair and to feel the taut wolf ears.

Reese flinched away, shocked by the sudden contact his reclusive boss was giving him. But, something in him wanted to nuzzle that feel, and he did, closing his eyes and tilting his head against the gentle but firm hand. A soft purr rose in his throat and left in an escaping breath. The hand in his hair quickly withdrew though, making him keen in disappointment.

"That's what I mean, Mr. Reese. We should look further into this on the road. I'll text you the address once I get back to the library. Come, clean yourself up."

"No. Just, go to the library. I don't feel like listening you talk about how I dress today." Reese waved his hand towards the door, trying to calm his body.

Finch stood still, still soaking in this abrasive side of Reese. He nodded, though, and limped to the door with his unique gait. He paused as he grabbed the doorknob but didn't turn back. He vanished into the hall and the door practically slammed itself.

Reese flinched at the noise of it slamming that seemed the utmost louder than usual. Oh, yeah, he had a canine's hearing now. He took a moment to let this soak in. He was part wolf now, or always was but it was dormant within him. The thought of it arising due to his roaring hormones almost made him laugh. And, the fact that he summoned the cause of his lust to his loft when he was in that state was even funnier. He had nearly pounced on Finch. Finch... that man led to trouble. It was hard enough to avoid the topic of the Machine and why they help people. Now he would have to work out an excuse for his uncontrollable appearance.

The first task was masking the tail and ears if they would come out on the job. He went to his sparse closet and pushed the uniform suits aside. He dropped to his knees and moved a single box of light firearms and knives aside. There, in the back corner, he found what he was searching for. He sat back and flipped the hat over in his fingers. The dust filtered off and left the black of the fedora bare. It was classic with a single deep blue strip of fabric wrapped around the base. The old fashioned styling made Reese smile.

He pulled himself up and situated the hat on his head, shifting it back and forth until it partially hid his right eye with a shadow and fully hid his ears which were shrinking with the fading thought of Finch and work. He brushed his clothes out but left his shirt loose and untucked. He skipped the blazer and threw his overcoat on, happy it was long enough to hide the smaller version of his tail when he wasn't excited. He slipped his shoes on and hooked the Bluetooth onto his ear. While fixing his gun into his waistband and hiding his stolen badge in his back pocket with his wallet, he answered the perfectly timed call from Finch. After accepting it, he got a text.

The Number was a young girl in a foster family, 11 years old. Her current family address was in the opposite direction from the library, which Reese never liked because he had to distance himself from Finch. But, on account of what was happening today, he didn't particularly mind as much. With work on his mind and his furry half hiding, Reese settled into his normal cycle: Focus, stay alert, listen to his 'keeper', save the innocent at all costs, and most likely break some laws.

On the way out of his loft, he pressed the button on his Bluetooth and quirked a half smile.

"What have you got for me, Finch?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Don't forget to R&R! **

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John Smith

"Her name is Samantha Miller. She's been in and out of foster homes because the foster parents didn't like her strange, quiet shyness. God forbid, the child watched her parents be murdered right in front of her. Thankfully, her new foster parents, Luke and Rebecca Miller, treasure her like their own child. I did some digging into the murder of the parents. They apprehended a suspect but Samantha never I. him as the killer. The case went on substantial evidence because of her father's position as a judge. The real killer must still be on the loose, Mr. Reese."

Reese took small mental notes of everything Finch said as he pulled up to the curb on the opposite side of the street the Millers lived on. Under the shade and cover of a tree, he hardly stuck out on the populated street lined with cars.

"Oh, and Mr. Reese," Finch started but was cut off by Reese's smooth voice.

"I won't let anything happen to her. I promise."

Finch sighed heavily. He knew Reese would always put the number first and that worried him. Reese was an invaluable asset. The ex-operative could be replaced but it would never be the same. No man was as capable and willing to repent as much as Reese. Reese needed this to help himself sleep at night, to quiet the screams in his head, to block out the horrifying images of people he could have saved or shouldn't have killed. Most of all, Finch had grown accustomed to him. He was the only human he was willing to trust with his life.

"So, what were those other symptoms, Finch?" Reese asked to lighten the mood. He reclined his seat and set his camera on the passenger side. There was no activity in the house, it was still early morning.

As he got comfortable, he heard a hard, off beat thumping noise on the other line, the familiar sound of Finch wandering the library, looking for a book maybe.

"There's a book on it, huh?" Reese snickered to himself.

Finch made a soft 'hmm' in response. His steps stopped producing that off beat and a loud, metal on metal scraping stung Reese's ear. The harsh high pitched noise ceased and the sound of books being flipped through followed.

"Let me fix those cages later. Damn thing's going to ruin my hearing." Reese plucked the Bluetooth from his ear and rubbed his ear generously. When he set it back in place, Finch was clicking away on his keyboard, back at the desk.

"The most common symptoms are..." Reese heard pages flipping and more tapping on keys, then a satisfactory sigh. "Ah, alright. For one, enhanced senses in full human form, olfactory, sight, hearing, taste, touch. Strength and endurance are included in that category. You already possess inhuman endurance and previously displayed strength. I think this borderlines you on being super human." Reese could almost hear the soft smile Finch was making at the thought of his special agent being some kind of superhero.

Reese closed his eyes and tilted his head back, trying to image all of those things. For the past weeks he had been experiencing strange enhancements in his abilities he hardly noticed. Every morning, he inhaled the deep scent of his loft, new, bare, the hardwood floor stain, the paint on the walls, the alcohol he stashed away in a cubby built into his bed frame. As soon as he opened his eyes he caught every little shift in his vision, the clock face ticking away across the room in the kitchen, the papers from cases he had filed on his desk fluttering slightly from the a/c. He heard everything around him, the busy streets outside, the click of the clock as it changed, the soft creaking of his floor boards as he moved atop the bed. Whenever he found time to eat, his tongue sang from the unique flavors he never stopped to enjoy, now unable to escape their decadent grasps; his hardest of liquors jolted his senses and made him regulate exactly how much he actually drank. Lastly, for touch, he hardly wanted to think about that sense. His body grew sensitive to physical contact, feeling the heat and emotion from a single skin on skin contact. He could feel the air shift around him, sense when something disturbed the normal flow.

"I hadn't noticed the changes, but yeah. What else?" Reese opened his eyes and glanced over at the house; it was still dormant in sleep and quiet morning rituals.

"Any wounds you sustain will heal very quickly. Also, you should have developed glands in your mouth that produce a chemical crucial to cleansing and closing flesh wounds. Essentially, you could lick your wounds clean. Oh, Mr. Reese, don't test that one on yourself!"

Reese smirked and let out a short laugh as he stopped rolling up his sleeve, ready to cut a small line to test both theories.

"I can't believe you were actually thinking about that Mr. Reese!" Finch bit out on the other end of the line.

"No better way than to test it, Finch."

"There is! Check the knife wound on the right hand side of your stomach. Did you already forget about that little scuffle?" Finch had a hint of relief in his voice.

Reese shrugged and began to unbutton his shirt. He peeled back the pad of gauze he set over the wound and whistled in surprise.

"I had forgotten about it. It's healed." He ran the pad of his index finger along the light pink line of the inch long scar.

"Well, I can conclude you weren't hexed, Mr. Reese," Finch said with a sigh and a thump as he shut the book.

"Seems that way. How long will this last? It's hard to work not knowing if I'm going to sprout ears at any moment. I must admit, it would make a fine distraction, though."

"It's permanent. It's a trait, you cannot simply lose it. You will, however, learn to control your appearance. I'm just glad you haven't completely transformed yet. Looks like we won't be working this weekend."

Reese buttoned his shirt and laid back. He plucked up his binoculars to get a look into the quiet, white panel house where the Millers resided. He mumbled harshly under his breath, "Permanent? Fuck, Finch. Tell me you're playing some sick joke."

"I'm afraid not."

"Damn it... What did you mean fully transformed?" Reese clenched the binoculars tightly and grit his teeth. Just one more thing he had to learn and hone into his special set of skills. Sure, this abnormality had a long list of advantages, but the single disadvantage of not being able to fully control his urges around Finch was a deal breaker.

"The myths of lycanthropes transforming into full beasts during a full moon was a partial truth. It's the new moon that makes you want to go on the hunt, not to kill, but to be a predator, to prey on other creatures, like the roughhousing pups do with each other. On full moons, you lose all of these abilities but go into a sudden state of heat. This Sunday is a full moon. We have three days including today to save Miss Samantha Miller. At 12 Sunday morning, I have to keep you secluded, and every new and full moon following until you can control yourself. Mr. Reese, try to promise to not toss me around too much. I can't handle much rough play or fend you off."

Reese let out a laugh. Finch actually found some humor in this matter.

"I would never hurt you. All of the Millers are awake, Finch. I'll force pair the phone of whichever parent goes with her. Can you keep an eye on the other one?" Silently, deep in the back of his mind, Reese was growing worried about this upcoming full moon. He wouldn't be able to resist being secluded with Finch alone.

"Already pinged their locations. Be careful, Mr. Reese."

The line went dead and Reese pulled his camera onto his lap, fiddling with the cap over the lens as he thought. This wasn't a dream. He couldn't get out of this situation like he did in combat when he was cornered. This was real and he realized he was possibly putting everyone in risk. Deep inside himself he could feel the urges growing, the need for a mate trying to force itself free. Any companion would do now, friend or sexual. He didn't dare put Finch in that situation. He would have to make a friend.

Reese set the camera down on his lap and looked at the house. It was 8 a.m. now and nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The usual, avid joggers and morning mothers speed walking dogs, fathers pulling away for work, no real activity. This is how surveillance usually went. It was dull and quiet, not a single thing to draw your attention away. That was the point, though. A single distraction could give away the operation or possibly get a Number harmed. Reese couldn't risk that. As trained as he was, he knew better. Finch would never forgive him either.

The Miller home stirred. The front door swung open, Luke first with Samantha right behind him. Rebecca followed soon after, each parent swinging Samantha back and forth between them as they walked down the stoop to the small Sedan parked out front. It touched Reese's heart. He smiled softly, a hurt smile. He wanted a family, to play with his child like that, give into their whimsical demands and needs. He wanted that desperately. But never under these circumstances. He had given himself to Finch, to the Machine. If only Finch could rear a child, Reese laughed at that. Their offspring would be one of a kind, for sure.

The Millers carried Samantha down the path to their gate. As Luke messed with the lock, Rebecca cleaned up her daughter's face and pinched her cheeks innocently. Samantha just smiled and hugged her foster mother's midsection. The look on her face was pure bliss. Reese couldn't say the same for the parents. Rebecca had a hidden worry etched across her face, hiding behind the fake smile as her eyes darted across the yard and down the street. Luke fiddled with the lock, his eyes working the streets as he did, pretending he couldn't find the key. When Rebecca finally touched his shoulder and offered the right key to the gate lock, he nodded and opened it. Little Samantha sprung out and bounced in front of the car door, a bit more in Reese's view. She had a small pink backpack hanging off her back, a cute little uniform, blouse and skirt, and her hair all done up proper.

"Looks like I'm going to school," Reese groaned, not fond of the idea. By the looks of it, it was either a religious school or private school. Either way, it would be hard to get past the adults dedicated to the children. They wouldn't let just anyone in and would be Finch's type of paranoid. That was good news. If Reese couldn't get in, whoever was after Samantha couldn't either.

The Millers all hopped into the car, Rebecca in back with Samantha and Luke driving, and drove off down the street. Reese flipped his phone open and dialed up Finch.

"Trouble, Mr. Reese?"

Reese put the car in drive and started the same way as the Millers.

"The Millers are paranoid. I can't tail them."

Finch made a sneer on the other end of the line followed by rapid tapping on keys. "Take a right at the end of the street, Mr. Reese."

Reese sighed as he followed Finch's instructions. It was a fifteen minute drive to the school. The entire school, Ross Private K-12, was surrounded by a large, intimidating bar fence with only one entrance point that required an I.D. pass. Reese pulled off down the street, hidden by the large trees looming on both side of the gate and along most of the tall fence. He thought about scaling the gate from there but settled with the force pairing he'd managed to get at a stop light a few miles back. He got the mother's phone. Luckily, the mother went in with Samantha. Luke dropped them off and presumably went to work.

"Don't get into any trouble," Finch said as he was about to hang up.

"Wait, talk to me," Reese stopped him as he unhooked his seat belt and watched Rebecca skip into the front doors of the school with Samantha.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't hang up, please. Just talk to me about anything. I need it," Reese nearly groaned as a heat swelled inside him. He felt hungry but not in the normal way. He needed some kind of human contact.

"Ah, well, Mr. Miller is heading to work at a small law firm co-owned by him and his childhood friend."

"Work," Reese sighed as he slumped down in his seat and eyed the only security gate.

"I'm sorry, but work takes precedent. Occupy yourself by scouting Mr. Miller. Chances are our perpetrators will target the parents as liabilities. Based on the previous records from other foster houses, which I dug into deeper for the raw accounts, upon taking in young Samantha, all the families experienced the feeling of being followed and watched. I can assure you that they were and that this was the work of the killers. Which, I have also looked into. Samantha's real father, the judge…"

"Finch, slow down. You've distracted me plenty," Reese smirked as he pulled away from the curb with one last glance at the secure school.

"Well, he put away many criminals. I found that not one sentence from him was ill-given, a rather impressive record. His last case was based on drug-dealing, which is where they got their prime suspect for the murder. That certain suspect, though guilty of many things, did not kill the judge. The only lead on the murder was 9mm casings and the execution-style murder." Finch drew a deep breath. Reese didn't interrupt as he sat patiently at a stop light, hands beating on the steering wheel to a silent tune. Finally, Finch continued in a softer voice he usually only used when he thought Reese had been fatally wounded but was mostly unscathed. "Mr. Reese, I fear for Samantha."

Reese clenched the steering wheel, a fire burning deep inside him. Finch needed him right now. The weakness of fear was hidden in his voice. He was probably thinking of all the Numbers he couldn't save, staring at the long bulletin board list. The beast in Reese cried to be set free, to care to his born mate. But, he resisted and grit his teeth, allowing silence to soothe the recluse and bring composure back to him.

"Mr. Reese..." he was hurting but Reese dared not act, knowing he would say or do something unforgivable. "Take a left at this light."

Reese waited for the light to change and pressed his forehead to the steering wheel, resisting. His breath escaped him and he breathed lightly into the earpiece, "I'll protect her like I would you, Finch." It wasn't detrimental but he could hear Finch smiling.

"Now that scares me. Remember you're invaluable, Mr. Reese."

"It's hard to forget when you're always whispering it like a confession of love into my ear."

Finch instantly clammed up, and held his breath. "Sharp tongued devil as always," he finally exhaled.

"At your service. I'm here, Finch. I'll let you pick my cover name this time." Reese fit his fedora snug on his head, stuffed his surveillance gear into a small duffle bag, and hid the bag under the passenger seat. The windows rolled up and the half wolf operative stepped onto the hard pavement in the small yellow-striped parking lot. He looked the rather small law firm up and down a few times, developing a character that would get him some sort of access into the paranoid lifestyle of the Millers. As he scaled the front stoop, checking his phone to ready the camera for inside, Finch laughed into his ear.

"John Smith. See how your cautious parents like a shady man with a walk-in appointment and gambling problems. Hm, which cartel haven't you paid in full yet?"

Reese smiled at the door, took a deep breath, then allowed a scared, frantic look take over him. Shaking hands, darting eyes, nervous hand gestures and lip biting - he was ready.

"Stay on the line, Finch."

Finch gave the usual, preoccupied, "Hmm," in response.

Upon entering the small one floor law firm, Reese inhaled the deep scent of two things awfully familiar to him: coffee and gunpowder. There were either guns hidden somewhere in this building or someone who frequented a shooting range. He hoped for the latter but hated both possibilities. With his senses tingling, Reese had no choice but to let his eyes shift and take in the small details of the room. There was a reception desk, an already busy Mr. Miller on the phone, apologizing for his coworker's mistakes on dates and times. Not much else stood out, no hidden weapons, no trained movements being made by either Mr. Miller or his friend who was practically begging while filing papers between the rooms on either side of the reception room.

"You have been charged with a debt you don't owe and suspect illegal practice at the tables," Finch quietly informed Reese of his cover story.

After a few moments of surveying the room and taking a couple of pictures of the coworker, Reese approached Mr. Miller timidly and tapped his back.

"M-Miller, right?"

Mr. Miller turned on his heel, eyes darting across Reese's figure. He fixated on Reese's hands stuffed deep in his overcoat pockets with bulges. It looked like he had a gun. He did, but that was in his waistband. Instead of blowing his cover by noticing the prying eyes, he threw his hands up in the air almost beggingly.

"Can you help me?"

Mr. Miller looked up his figure again, calmer, spoke with a hard, demanding voice into the phone, and hung up. He fixed his tie with a brief tightening and turned to Reese.

"What can I do for you, Mr...?"

"Smith. John Smith," Reese smiled wryly.

Mr. Miller poked the inside of his mouth with his tongue at the very unlikely name.

"I don't work with people of your type," Mr. Miller folded his arms.

"Try to not bite the poor man, Mr. Reese," Finch snickered into Reese's ear.

Reese quirked a hidden smile beneath his fedora and gave the young attorney the hurt, puppy dog look.

"I-I have done anything illegal. They cheated me of my money. I saw the dealer switching the decks and handing off the good cards to the man at the end. Please, they say I have a debt for games I never played." Reese sucked his lower lip into his mouth and shot a glance at the door, taking a few steps towards it. He doubled back shaking his head, mumbling, "no, no," over and over under his breath. His eyes darted up to Mr. Miller and a faint apology escaped Reese's lips as he nearly bolted for the door.

"Hey!" Mr. Miller snagged Reese by the arm and spun him around.

"Who's after you? Why would you come to me?"

Reese looked around anxiously, locking his eyes on the coworker/childhood friend. The friend froze, petrified by Reese's hard glare. Mr. Miller raised his hand to his friend, waving him off to the other room.

"I want to p-put them out of business so they can't hurt anyone anymore. I need help. I don't know the law and I heard you take hopeless cases. Please," Reese lowered his head in defeat.

"We'll get your money back. Why would they charge you more than your debt?"

"I don't have a debt. I heard they run drugs out of that place and must have pegged me as some sort of liability. They uh, uh," Reese stuttered trying to think of a gang.

"Local Latin Cartel. It's vague enough to draw his attention and his brother was caught up by the same ruse and killed a few years back," Finch assisted quietly.

"Latin Cartel. I even saw some of the usual dealers on the streets selling. I don't know, I'm scared."

Mr. Miller looked down at the floor, contemplating whether or not to get involved.

"Here," Mr. Miller handed Reese a business card with a different number scrawled across the back, "I'll get the paperwork filled out. Call me if they try anything. We can stop this."

Reese nodded and stuffed the card into his pocket, silently thanking Mr. Miller. He quickly took his leave and settled into his car.

"We now have an access point. Well done, Mr. Reese. You should stop by the house and plant a few bugs, preferably about the parents. They have something to hide."

"Anything for you, Finch," Reese cooed softly as he pulled out of the parking lot.


	3. Chapter 3

Check out my blog (Fanfiction Haven) I will be going to this site if (when) Fanficiton Police start hating on my lovely smut stories. Link as follows:

eveneefanfict . wordpress . com

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Transformation

Reese pulled up to the curb on the street one block down from the Miller's home. He skipped through a few yards and found himself leaning against the back wall of the gate fence that guarded the entire Miller home to not risk being seen entering. It was damned hard to get over, even with his amazingly new prowess in agility and high jumping. He crept through the back yard, cautious of any triggers or alarms. The back door was left unlocked, never a good sign. Precise, steely blue eyes scoured the edge of the door. On the lower right hand corner was a small pressure trigger. Reese smirked inwardly and slid one of his picks against the trigger. He held it dormant and in place as he slipped in and shut the door.

The living room was plain, not set up for a child yet. There were a few things scattered, an open notebook with cursive throughout it, another drawing notepad with faint sketches of a family of three, what seemed to be the makings of a stray dog, and a shady man. On the bottom of each was Samantha's initials. Reese knelt by the notepad and carefully looked at the sketch of the shady man. Behind him were a few more, non-descript characters and off to the side was a small design. It was a bridge with the letters N and Y repeated throughout the structure. The man looked to be of no distinct descent so Reese was sort of at a loss. He took a few pictures, leaving the setup undisturbed due to the fact of the Miller's apparent paranoia. He sent the pictures to Finch and dialed up his favorite computer engineer.

"You there, Finch?"

"Always, Mr. Reese. I'm assuming these are leads you want me to follow up?"

"I doubt I can get a scent off a drawing."

"Hm, trying to humor me?"

Reese laughed softly and started to look throughout the house as Finch tapped away on his keyboard, exceeding Reese's technological abilities. He hid one listening device in the living room, hidden far enough away from the television in the binding of a book on the massive bookshelf. He skipped the kitchen and headed upstairs, wary of any traps or triggers. At the top, he searched the hallway, placing a mic carefully on the backside of the framework of a painting while noting the number of rooms and the steps to each turn if he had to return in the future at a less opportune time. There were four rooms along the hall, two bedrooms, a bath and a den. The den was the farthest down on the right wing of the hallway. The parents' bedroom housed the left wing, across the hall from the den. Samantha's room, scattered with barely any toys and bare walls with no art or old pictures, was next to the staircase on the left side of the hallway, adjacent to the parents' room. The bath was across from her door.

Reese headed into the dark den, pausing at the unusual lack of illumination in the room. The shades were drawn and sealed off all outside light. There wasn't even a switch on the wall. Not particularly prepared for scouring the darkness akin to a forgotten cave, Reese flipped his phone open to bring some light to the room. It was any classic family den. The wide, square space was barely half filled by a fireplace, propane fueled so no chimney, one large deep, abyssal blue armchair, a fine, plain burgundy rug before the fireplace, and a faded black bean-bag chair on the rug, the indent facing the armchair. A long bookcase lined the wall away from the door, filled with a wide array of books, new and old, all novels without a single glimpse of a child's book. Reese found a single book set in the armchair's seat and flipped the cover open. With a crooked glance, Reese turned the next page, then another. All of the pages were blank. Then, slowly, the parts where he touched began to bleed ink across the page in the form of his partial fingerprints.

"Damn it!" Reese let the cover fall shut and glanced at his fingertips. Small lines of black etched across his index finger and thumb. The book was a decoy.

"What's wrong, Mr. Reese?" Finch had that absent worry in his voice, a hazard of being in acquaintance with Reese for so long.

"It's like invisible ink. On the book and my fingers. Fuck it," he snarled, a growing feral hint to his voice.

"Rubbing alcohol, Mr. Reese. Check the bathroom but try to not touch anything with those fingers. Dab it on your fingers, then, carefully lift whatever had the ink on it with a clean cloth to keep the oil on your skin from activating it any further. Use a small amount of the alcohol on that as well. You should be fine."

Reese didn't like being tricked, or nasty surprises, sparking a heat that coiled in his stomach and spiraled out through his veins, heating his blood. He took a deep breath then looked up at the ceiling. His fedora fell back off his head, letting his large, dark wolf ears to fan up fully erect. His tail swished beneath his overcoat, catching his hat on the very end of the furry appendage as it nearly touched the floor at full length. A sudden, metallic taste filled his mouth which it instantly registered as blood. His instincts flared and he growled lowly at the addicting taste on his tongue. But, that was his blood. Pupils narrowed and eyes wide, Reese flinched at the loud, buzzing noise in his ear from the earpiece as his senses awakened to the animalistic feeling coming over him. His body shook a bit, bringing him to his knees, head thrown skywards, back arched, a howl growing in his throat.

"Mr. Reese?"

Reese shook his head like a wet dog, forcing the animal in him to settle. He sat back on his heels and looked down steadily at the red colored carpet. It calmed him, as well as his other half, bringing his senses back but leaving the physical affect. He absently wiped a bit of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

"The longer the ink stays on your skin and the page, the harder it will be to remove. Are you there?"

"Yeah," Reese responded hoarsely, prodding his mouth for abnormalities. It withdrew his finger with a small hiss, a small bead of blood forming a small ball at the tip of his pinky finger.

The half wolf operative shoved off his heels to his feet, swaying with a sudden lightness to his step. He felt like he was weightless even though his steps rang audibly in his ears as vibrations throughout the wood flooring. He managed to maneuver himself to the bathroom, skipping finding a light switch because his eyes now adjusted easily to the darkness. With his pinky in his mouth, sucking the addicting sweetness of his own blood, he looked up into the mirror above the sink. His mouth set open wide, revealing the gleam of long, intimidating incisors. They had torn two small holes in his tongue which were already sealed. His pinky healed as well. Through the darkness, his gaze was caught by his slightly twitching ears, taut and attentive, picking up every little sound, the creaks of the house, the cars passing by on the street, the woman screaming next door at her husband. Reese whipped his head up, angling his ear in their general direction. He groaned quietly, palming his left temple with his unmarked hand.

"I'll have to come back. Who lives directly behind this house?"

Reese pulled the mirror open and looked through the medications and rolls of gauze. He found the alcohol and snagged a cotton ball. Tail swaying back and forth, rising higher the more he listened to her cry for help, Reese dabbed his fingers a few times until the ink faded away. He dabbed another cotton ball, put everything back perfectly and went back to the book. The same effect happened to the pages in the decoy book in the den. Reese stuffed the cotton balls in his pocket to avoid leaving evidence and carried his weightless body into the hallway. As he passed by, he glanced out the window at the end of the hall, his eyes catching the dark, silhouetted figures moving behind the shades of the room the screams were coming from. It made a growl curl on his lips like someone was impinging on his territory. Deadset on helping this woman, he went out the same way, through the back door, careful of the trigger. There, he had enough sense to wrap his enlarged tail around his loosened belt as he eyed the darkened window.

"Well, the Crawfords live there. One child, a son of 8. It looks like the mother has visited the hospital quite a bit. Ah... Oh, Mr. Reese, she's being beaten," Finch said with a shudder to his voice.

"I know. Call Carter to the location." Reese flipped his fedora from his tail onto his head, fitting it to a slant before pushing off the stone laid patio into the grass in full sprint for the gate fence. He made the height of it in a single bound, rolling safely in the grass of the Crawford's back yard. He continued up at the same speed, taking another inhuman jump to the top of the shed pressed to the back of the house below the room the screams were coming from. Reese grabbed onto the edge of the shed and easily pulled himself up to land on his feet. He went over to the white paneling on the side of the house and glanced up to the window.

"Alright, she's on her way. How did you know?"

"Some people can't ignore a scream for help, Finch. I don't want your list getting any longer," Reese responded as he rubbed his hands together and stared up at the window.

He pressed his foot to the paneling and pushed up, nearly scaling the wall. He grabbed onto the window sill with one hand, using the other to work his gun out of his waistband. Without a second thought or qualm about a misunderstanding, he bashed the butt of his gun against the center of the lower half of the window. It shattered with ease. Reese pulled himself up, sliding into the room.

The morning breeze made the shade flutter out of his way, an astonishing entrance that halted all movement in the room. His fedora hid his face but he saw it all. The young, emaciated woman was on her knees before a large, built man with his hand raised up, ready to strike. Behind the woman, cowering with a stuffed animal clasped tightly to his body, was the young son. He was crying, tear tracks leading up to his reddened eyes. He sobbed quietly, "Mommy."

Reese clenched his gun tightly, staring the man door that was looking at him a bit confused. Reese relaxed his death grip, exhaled, and craned his head towards the boy. The boy looked up at him, teary eyed. Reese lifted his hand to cover his eyes, gesturing to the boy to do the same. And, the boy did, lifting his stuffed bear in front of his face. The mother collected herself and shuffled back at the sight of Reese's gun, wrapping her body over her son's but still watching.

"You son-of-a-bitch! Who do you think you are?" The man lunged at Reese, throwing a right hook at him. Reese sidestepped, grabbing the man's forearm and using the momentum to force the man head first into the window frame. The ex-operative took a few steps back, creating a shield between the man and the two fragile and bruised beings huddled on the floor.

As soon as the man straightened up, trying to find Reese through his daze, Reese outstretched an arm in the blink of an eye, grinding his knuckles into the man's nose. The nose broke on contact, the force of the punch busting a few teeth as well. The man fell back against the wall, delirious. He struggled to get up. Reese loomed over him, swiping his foot into the side of the bloodied face and knocking the man to the ground in the shattered glass, unconscious.

Reese turned back to the young woman and the boy as he set his gun in his waistband. Glass crunched under his soles as he approached them and crouched by their sides. He reached out slowly, brushing the woman's hair back from her bruised and bloodied face. She trembled and slapped him across the cheek, instantly apologizing and holding her boy tight. Reese fixed his fedora from the slap and held his hand out palm up like you would to a scared dog. The woman shook her head, holding her boy tighter and tighter.

"Mommy," the boy whined, bringing his hands around his mother and holding her the best he could.

Reese felt a pang in his heart, an insistent throb. With the sound of sirens growing louder in his ears, he bent onto a knee, sweeping the woman up in his arms bridal style. The boy was still huddled in her arms. To Reese, as he left the room and carried the two down to the front door, both bodies felt weightless, nothing really. He started to imagine how Finch would feel, how much more fragile the man would be. No, Finch wasn't fragile, he was a delicate case that required a special kind of touch. Reese had that touch, he was certain of it.

He reached the ground floor and managed the front door open, met by a startled Detective Carter. Behind her were a few other police cars and an ambulance. Reese nodded to her and started for the ambulance. The police line behind the cars pulled their guns on him. Carter took a moment but called them down.

"He's upstairs, down the hall, first room on the left."

Reese started again for the ambulance. As he walked, he glanced down at the mother. She was staring at him now, eyes hazy and drowned in weakness. She was straining to keep herself conscious. Her body eased against Reese's chest as she held her boy who was crying as he hugged her.

Reese laid the woman on the gurney and backed a step away. As he did, the boy wailed out, trying to stay with his mother as the medics tried to lift him onto a different gurney. In the process he dropped his stuffed bear. Reese bent to pick it up and interjected between the fussing medics. He handed the boy the bear and held his arms open. The boy instinctively dove into Reese's open arms. As soon as Reese closed the hug around the boy, he calmed and was trying to curl into Reese's body heat. Something about hugging a dog just gets to you in a good kind of Reese calmed the boy, the mother was lifted into the ambulance and was hurried off to the hospital.

"Trying a new style?"

Reese turned to Carter, who wore a wide, mocking smile. He rocked the boy gently and worked up a smile. As he did, he realized his canines faded and his eyes reverted to their normal sapphire blue. His ears stopped pressing hard against the inside of the fedora and his tail slimmed and shrunk, unwinding itself from his belt.

"Do you like it?" He said very softly, his voice a dark velvet sound that made Carter instantly blush.

The detective shook her head. She looked around for something, anything to look at but him. She turned to the house. The father was being dragged out, just coming to. As he did, he looked up to Reese and barked out some curse words. He jerked his unsuspecting police escorts off and bolted towards Reese. Carter tried to grab her gun, knowing it wouldn't be fast enough. The man attempted to headbutt Reese, because his hands were cuffed. Reese leaned back on his left heel, raising his right leg up and slamming it down on the back of the man's head, smashing his face into the asphalt. Carter stumbled back again, stunned. Reese just nodded to her as he tapped his heel on the road to get the bits of glass out. He eased the now sleeping boy into her arms and touched the rim of his fedora formally.

Carter was speechless as she looked down between the calmed boy and beaten man. When she looked back up, Reese was gone.

On the other street, slipping into his car, Reese exhaled deeply as he let his body relax from the lingering rush.

"Still there, Finch?" he panted.

"Always," was the only response he was gifted with. Finch didn't ask if it went well or if he planned on finishing placing mics throughout the Miller home.

"I know why kids get high these days," Reese half laughed as he ran his hand back through his hair, coming down from the sudden adrenaline rush a transformation gave him.

"Oh?" Finch snorted almost, lost at what Reese was implying.

"Yeah... How much more time do I have anyway?"

Finch took a moment then answered, "They will all be home very soon for lunch. They seem to keep to their hidden Italian heritage and still meet for lunch and dinner every day."

Reese looked down at his stomach that gave a growl at the mention of food. He rubbed it lightly and watched as the sedan turned down the street. Not wanting Mr. Miller to recognize him, Reese turned the car on and pulled down the street immediately to his left, avoiding the police at the Crawford's as well.

"How about lunch, Finch?" Reese smirked as he changed course for the library, somehow knowing his voice would have the same effect on Finch as it did on Carter.

"You're cooking. We have two hours until you can resume your snooping. I'll send you the address of a house I just stocked."

Reese was stunned. Not only had Finch agreed, he invited Reese over to one of his houses, willingly no less. An excited feeling filled Reese, sparking his body to shift again. His tail batted happily against the car seat, surely loud enough that Finch heard.

"You're near the location already. Why don't you start cooking and I'll be by soon."

"Yes, Mr. Finch," Reese called confidently in response as he checked the address Finch just sent to his phone.

In his earpiece, he heard the computers being shut down in the background and Finch's off step as he retrieved his jacket.

"Well, it's a date," Finch responded, not entirely understanding what he just said.

Reese took it as he wanted, not even considering allowing his boss to recant the statement later. This was going to be an eventful two hours.

* * *

Going to establish a bit of 'contact' in the next chapter. (Next chapter should be up in a week or so. Stay tuned!)


	4. Chapter 4

Alpha 4 - Chit-Chat

Reese stood in front of a steaming pot, one hand clasping the handle of a sauté pan, the other on a wooden spoon, stirring and flipping the mix of vegetables. Next to that on the stove was a pot of noodles, resting. Reese had a tune going, whistling lowly as he tapped his foot and his tail swayed to the beat. His ears were erect, alert to all the little sounds around him. The cuffs of his jacket were rolled up above his elbows and his shirt had lost a few more buttons, leaving only two still connected in the middle.

The rest of his get-up was tossed on the couch in the adjoining room. When he had entered the apartment, he'd found the white-on-black modern yet sparse setup somewhat fitting to Finch. It was mellow yet elegant. The floor was hardwood and the wide window had black shades drawn open across the expanse. The main room was the living room with a single love seat, flat screen television, white rectangular table with only a remote on it and a small book shelf. The kitchen was in a separate room down a short hallway. Across from it was a large master bedroom decorated in a black and burgundy layout.

Reese didn't bother to snoop around, relying solely on his newly enhanced senses. He couldn't prevent his physical form from changing as multiple thoughts of Finch flashed in his mind. He couldn't control how his tail lengthened, dragging on the floor as he walked, his whole body picking up the vibrations coming from the walls and all the surrounding apartments, his nose picking up the faintest scent of fresh local produce and foreign cuisine. He could hear the bustle outside and most definitely any electronic buzz from a wire setup for a camera or mic or even a trap.

Reese's hands paused and his right ear twitched towards the other room. He heard the lock being turned by a key, then the door sliding open. The very familiar sound of Finch's off-step made the plush, grizzled tail bat at the hard wood floor of the small kitchen, echoing the sound. Reese even let a small howl rise in his throat. The sound of his limping boss paused then continued, moving towards the sound of Reese's tail. Moments later his brown, spiky head moved through the threshold of the kitchen door with a wry smile, a facade almost. That changed the moment the pale eyes worked Reese's frame up from his tail to his ears, bringing a subtle, genuine smile to the usually serious face.

"Did the apron not suit you, Mr. Reese?" Finch asked endearingly as he stepped fully into the room and shed his overcoat onto the back of a chair.

"'Kiss the Cook', eh? Are you trying to tell me something, Finch?" Reese quipped as he turned both front burners off and set both pan and pot on the dormant back burners.

"Hmm," is all Finch offered in response as he gripped the sides of the chair with his head slightly bent down and his weight shifted to his left side.

Reese regarded him a moment, then moved up behind his boss. He placed both hands on the tense shoulders. Finch's head turned up instantly and his body stiffened even more, to a point Reese didn't think was possible. The large hands were shed from Finch's shoulders as the older man stepped aside, pulling the chair away from the table and offering to it Reese.

"No, no. Sit and I'll make the plates." Reese grabbed the chair from Finch and let his boss sit before pushing it in. As he turned back to the stove, he heard Finch whisper, though not out of his radius of hearing, "I'm not a woman." Reese smirked at that, well aware that he was preying on a paranoid, enigmatic older man. He just wanted to treat this secret man gently, although he might not agree entirely.

Reese started each bowl with some miso udon and then finished it with the vegetables he had resting. He laced his right arm with the bowls and managed two glasses of water in the other hand. He set a bowl before Finch with some water and set his own down at the other side of the square table. Before sitting, he went to the stove and poured some hot water into a mug and fashioned Finch some Sencha tea. He placed that before Finch and finally took his seat.

"A take on Houtou Udon?" Finch inquired as he swirled the cubed vegetables into the noodles.

"Of sorts. I'm no sous chef, so be gentle with me." Reese started to eat his with the chopsticks he placed beforehand.

Finch followed suit and the first few moments were absent of words. With half a bowl left, Reese picked his head up and regarded Finch with a raised brow. His boss was prodding a chunk of a carrot with a single stick, trying to impale it.

"You know how to use these right?" Reese waved his chopsticks at Finch.

Finch glanced up and let out a sigh as he set the chopsticks aside.

"I'm not a pro at it."

Reese couldn't help but laugh under his breath. He held a single stick up, profile view to Finch. Finch copied Reese by placing one stick in his hand like a pencil. Reese laid the other to rest between the pads of his thumb and index finger, flexing in a simple motion Finch tried to copy. The top stick fell off and he let out an agitated sigh.

"Let me," Reese said almost in a question. When Finch flicked his hand up, annoyed, Reese knew he had the okay and ventured behind Finch's chair. He lowered his arms over Finch's shoulders, feeling the older man tense. His large hand cupped Finch's while the other placed the sticks in the right position. He helped Finch get the correct motion down.

"Thank-you, Mr. Reese," Finch said quietly under his breath, trying to pull his hand away.

The half wolf guided Finch's hand to the still slightly steaming bowl and plucked a small orange chunk with some noodles. Finch leaned forward, taking the carrot into his mouth. He made a quiet, pleased sound in his throat with his eyes closed and a Cheshire cat smile curling his lips.

"That tastes amazing. How did you add that savory sweetness to it?"

Reese smirked. "You'll have to visit me more to find out for yourself," he responded, not exactly sure how he managed to concoct that flavor combination.

Tail swiping the floor continuously in a timed motion, Reese watched as Finch managed a few more pieces on his own. A fast learner, Reese teased himself.

Watching the stiff fingers accustomed to tapping away at the keys of a keyboard work the finesse of chopsticks, Reese leaned closer, just barely brushing his lips to Finch's ear. The simple contact made his body react instantly. Heat coursed through his body, his veins, working from his thumping heart to the throb between his legs. This was no good, he had to put some distance between them. He quickly pulled himself to his feet and slyly slipped into his seat. He patted his lap, a vain attempt to calm the burning ache. The best way he knew how to relieve a problem was to confront it directly, so, he struck up a leisurely conversation.

"Any hits on that tattoo?"

Finch only glanced up from under his glasses, slurping a noodle into his mouth.

"Not yet. The specific N-Y combination looks like a signature from New York, so that's a start. Did you find anything else in the house?"

Reese shook his head, tipping his bowl up to slurp the broth. When he set the bowl back down, he had those pale blue eyes scouring his entire being. He felt the burning gaze on his hands first, analyzing the sharp yet short claws, then up to his face, his foggy gray eyes and glistening white fangs, lastly up to his messy, grizzled hair where the two, adult sized ears twitched involuntarily.

"Something wrong?" he finally asked his boss.

Finch seemed to snap back to reality and lifted the bowl to his face to take a sip of the broth himself. When he set it down, he seemed somewhat composed again.

"Are you having troubles controlling your appearance?"

Reese just swiped his nose and thought quietly in the back of his mind. _Only when you're around. _

"Yeah. Whenever I get around women, it gets harder to control. Any ideas?" He gave Finch a textbook puppy-dog look that struck home.

Finch let himself drown in those foggy eyes before jerking his head away to eye the swirl of noodles and vegetable still left in his bowl. He cleared his throat and rolled his eyes up while moving his lips, recalling what information he had dug up on this strange transformation.

"Ah, yes. Well, have you participated in any sexual intercourse recently, regularly, even?"

Reese swallowed hard, hating how the water caught in his throat and made him cough. He lifted his head to Finch with a hard, tight lipped glare. Under his breath, he growled, "You hardly give me any time to build a relationship with anyone."

Finch let a hurt smile creep across his face, but it faded just as quickly. "Have _you_ been taking care of yourself, then?"

A deep sound vibrated in Reese's throat, the half wolf growing more and more unable to resist blurting out and acting on his affection for his seemingly oblivious boss. But, he calmed himself enough to snarl, "Barely. Are you offering yourself?"

One of Finch's eyebrows twitched at the thought being proposed by Reese. He chewed at his lower lip, his hands suddenly shaking as he reached for his tea. He raised the cup to his lips and took a long, slow sip. The lukewarm liquid slipped down his throat not as satisfyingly as he had hoped. It didn't make Reese disappear, or his heart stop pounding insanely hard against his chest. He had lowered his eyes to the table to let a calmer sense wash over him to deal with his teasing employee. When he lifted his gaze back up, mug still pressed to his lips, Reese's dark, glowing wolf-eyes had softened. Reese made a whimpering sound and cupped Finch's trembling hands, setting the mug to the table. His calloused hands were gentle, forming easily to Finch's and not pressing too intrusively. His thumbs even carefully stroked the back of each of Finch's hands consolingly.

With a fleeting blush heating his cheeks, Finch tried to distract Reese.

"Ah," he cleared his throat, "you have a higher need for it than human. Because humans interact sexually for pleasure, and animals for mating reasons, when you mix the two, it becomes a demand your body has to fulfill rather than a want to be satisfied. Also, the upcoming full moon will make you experience the effects of an animal in heat. Before you return to the Millers, Mr. Reese, try to maintain it a bit."

Reese's hands slipped from Finch's to the table where he racked his claws against the stained wood. Evenly, in rhythm with each other, he tapped out the sequence of each finger hitting the wood in quick succession. Finch instantly noticed the tension of Reese mulling over the information and pushed back his chair, bowl and water glass in hand. Reese's head instantly darted up and he stood as well, swinging inhumanly fast around the table, He reared up behind Finch, swiping the bowl and glass from him. Their bodies touched fully for a brief moment that took Finch's breath away. He could make out Reese's figure pressed so close to his own. This man was tall, muscle hidden beneath taut, tanned skin. Finch had seen Reese in action, expressing and utilizing his strength; but, right now, he could feel it, and he wished he didn't have to conjure this feeling up by memory later. He wanted the feeling to linger on him, stay real. But nothing ever lasts as he hopes; he had experienced that first hand too many times.

Reese spun around to the sink and set both in the basin, flicking on the hot water and pouring a little dish soup in the mix. He quietly returned to the table and retrieved his own plates, leaving Finch with his cooling tea. When the dropped his plates into the sink and turned the now searing hot water off, Finch brushed up against his side, reaching across the sink and in front of Reese to grab two towels. He wanted more of that contact, more of Reese's body on his own.

"Don't forget the pans," Finch hummed softly as he laid out a towel on the counter and tossed the other over his hand, ready to dry dishes. Their shoulders brushed lightly, just enough to satisfy Finch but only enough to make a distraction for Reese.

Reese nodded and sunk his hands into the searing hot water. Finch cringed at the heat swirling off the top layer of water and reached for Reese's forearms, pulling both hands out of the hot water. He then turned the cold water on while he inspected Reese's hands and arms.

"Are you trying to harm yourself?"

Reese shook his head, his body growing hot from the skin on skin contact. Finch looked his hands over twice and even tested the skin by running his hands along it. All he felt was purely Reese, no burns, no abnormalities.

"Well, your skin and endurance of pain has grown rather strong. I had no idea this was... an effect. Mr. Reese?" Finch trailed off, his voice fading as Reese took a step closer and craned his head slightly to the side, preparing for a kiss.

Reese felt the conflict going on inside him, trying to keep this affection quiet and away from Finch. But, in that moment, the only thing he could do was take Finch's hands in his own and lean in, closing the distance between them. Finch was still and rigid when their lips touched. He wasn't sure how to react. Reese made a muffled sound against Finch's lips, like a groan to the contact although it was only one sided. His weight shifted and Finch was pinned to the counter, his lips a slave to Reese's. Reese didn't really care that Finch wasn't reacting physically, because he felt the tattoo of Finch's pounding heart against his chest and it only made him hungrier.

Finch froze. His mind registered things slowly, the soothing feel of Reese's thumbs kneading the inside of his palms, his body transferring a warm, protecting feeling, his velvet lips, brushing over his own, creating a hot friction. Those lips, so unforgivingly soft and welcoming – Finch's hands tensed around Reese's and he jerked away with a pained sound escaping his lips. Reese's body left his in an instant, fearful of what he had just done. The half wolf stumbled backwards, a victim of his height and weight, knocking over a chair and hitting the wall, leaning against it for all of its support.

Finch stood up straight, his hand curled into a fist against his chest. He was nervous and his lower lip trembled uncharacteristically. Finch was a strong man, a very capable man, but he stood there, eyes blank, lips parted and his breaths shallow.

"Finch," Reese started but his senses caught something unusual. It was scent coming from Finch. He took a whiff then snarled, bringing his body to height and sauntering to Finch. He lifted Finch's chin easily and looked deep inside his eyes. He didn't smell fear anymore, it was lust and it showed in the glazed pale blue eyes.

"You just, ahem, can't control it, as to be expected. Let's finish cleaning up." Finch tried to turn away from Reese. Not surprisingly, Reese caught him by his arm and turned him back around, face to face. The glow in the gray eyes was petrifying, something you couldn't escape from.

"But you can control it, Finch," Reese stated blatantly as he worked his leg up between Finch's.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips as Finch's erection pressed against his leg and even gave a slight throb on contact. He cupped the back of Finch's head and rested his chin in the spiked brown hair, inhaling the mix of Finch's scents, his normal scent and cologne, tea, and overwhelming lust. He spread his free hand along the middle of Finch's back as support as he savored the long awaited moment when Finch crumbled in his arms. Quietly he whispered a single word into Finch's hair over and over, "Finally."

Finch faltered against Reese with a breathless gasp. His fists balled into the white dress shirt and his legs trembled. He felt Reese's lips press to the top of his head and whisper something too quietly to make out. The strong arms slipped from their places to loop around his shoulders but were rejected as Finch lashed out, shoving at Reese's chest. Reese stepped back with the applied force, not wanting to hurt Finch as he strained himself. Finch slumped back against the counter, shaking, eyes quivering, his glasses offset.

"It's a natural response considering how long it has been!" Finch spat in an exasperated pant.

Finch pushed himself to his feet and limped to the overturned chair, staring at his coat on the floor and deciding to leave it before storming out of the apartment. Reese was left hurt and unsure if he should follow. He wanted to chase Finch, for the thrill, to fill the need he had to make Finch his own. But some part of him knew Finch was a delicate matter and needed gentle care, not forced feelings.

"What the fuck was I thinking?" Reese scolded himself as he returned to the sink and sank his hands in to the adjusted warm water. He cleaned the dishes with an empty mind. He set the extra food aside in the fridge and sat at the table in Finch's chair. He laid Finch's coat out over his lap as he tapped his foot on the floor in a staccato pattern. Not even his tail swayed; it just laid over the back of the chair's seat and hung lifelessly down like his bent ears. He laid his phone out before him, next to the mug of ice cold tea Finch never finished. He took a sip of the tea as he watched the phone, hoping Finch would call. The tea assaulted his senses. It was nothing like the coffee he indulged in every morning. But, there was something familiar about it. It was the last taste on Finch's tongue, the taste of his kiss. Reese forced himself to drink the rest of the tea, savoring Finch's faint taste and still eyeing the phone. Finch would call, but later, and say it was just the wolf in Reese. For now, Reese would have to agree with that for all of their sakes, Finch's, Samantha's and a part of Reese that still had some conscious thought.

After a few minutes, the only thing Reese heard as he folded his arms and rested his forehead against his forearms was the tick of the clock set against the wall across from the door. It ticked so smoothly and the sound calmed Reese. He looked up to the clock once, regarding the time. He had about thirty minutes before he had to leave for the Miller's. That was enough time to take a quick shower and wash all of this away. He might even wash away from stress as Finch suggested. The corner of Reese's mouth twitched up in a half grin as he craned his head to the hallway. A shower sounded very promising.


	5. Chapter 5

**Realizations and Bets**

_R&R if you like this story or I'll be forced to cry in a dark corner and stop posting /3_

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Reese tilted his head back, running his fingers through his grizzled hair and allowing the steamy hot water to wash his stress away. His muscles relaxed and his joints loosened. He took a deep breath to calm his entire body. It was heavenly. He started to wash down his body, the pellets of water bouncing off his tanned skin and creating a small puddle of the floor that his tail dragged through.

As he washed down his chest, he stuck his tongue out, lapping some of the water down his throat. It was childish and feral, but it brought him a subtle joy deep inside. In this glass shower, he refused to think of work and thought only of himself. Playing with the water was his way of letting loose.

His hand drifted down lower, feathering around his navel then teasing down his right thigh. He gently pressed his nails into his thigh, exhaling at the slight feel of the pain, trying his best to imagine it was Finch. A low groan formed in his throat as he rested his left shoulder against the cold wall for support. His hand formed a loose grip around his neglected member, jerking it a few times until it started to harden. He drew his one of his left knuckles into his mouth, worrying it restlessly between his teeth as his body shuddered. Teeth boring deeper into his finger, he released his near fully erect length to search the wall of the shower, eventually wrapping his fingers around a bar of soap. He lathered up his hand, keening anxiously as he waited for that heat to return to his engorged flesh. He liked the tease, almost a punishment for treating Finch the way he did. But, he had needs, and formed a tight grip around his length once again, jerking it in slow, long strokes that made his entire body shiver.

He was close, thoughts drifting to Finch and the sounds he would make, the way his body would curl around Reese's. He imagined Finch clawing at his back, calling his name, begging for release. He was almost there, just something a bit more.

"Mr. Reese?!"

Reese was startled by the familiar voice. Usually, hearing Finch would be enough for him to finish, but now it jolted him, bringing a halt to his stroking.

"Yeah, Finch?" he called hoarsely, snagging a white towel and stepping from the steaming shower. He could hear Finch moving somewhat frantically through the apartment, most likely searching for him. When Reese pushed the ajar bathroom door open with his shoulder, one hand keeping the towel up, the other pushing back his hair, Finch ran right into him.

Finch braced his arms to Reese's chest, losing his footing as they collided. Reese released his towel and brought both arms around Finch's shoulders to steady him. The towel hung between them by Finch's thighs pressing directly to Reese's. Finch looked up to Reese, worry making his pale eyes quiver.

"Are you alright?" Reese pulled Finch upright as he visually inspected the rest of his boss' body for injury.

"Y...Yes. I called to apologize and you didn't pick up. I could only... Mr. Reese, was I interrupting something?"

Reese let his head fall back a little bit and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, more than happy to have Finch really in his arms rather than only in his imagination. He gently moved his hands up Finch's arms and back down, creating a calm feeling.

"Ah, oh, I'm sorry! If you picked up your phone, I-" Finch was silenced so easily by Reese's kiss.

The half wolf slid his hands down to Finch's back and took his words with the softest kiss Finch didn't know this man was even capable of. It was light and dreamy, a prince's kiss. Finch was victim to it. His eyes fluttered shut and a quiet moan escaped his lips. The soft, reassuring sound pressed against Reese's lips and made him quirk a smile. Just maybe, Finch wasn't as uptight and unwilling as he thought.

"You seem to be having strangely strong side effects to this transformation," Finch said as he pulled his head away, half lidded eyes locked on the foggy gray ones.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Stop using this," Reese poked Finch's forehead, "and start using these," Reese traced his thumb along Finch's lips before he bent his head and took another kiss. This time he was welcomed, Finch's surprisingly soft lips parted and tempting. Reese sucked the lower lip into his mouth and toyed with it, slowly drawing off it with his teeth so it gave a soft sting that would linger. And, it made Finch keen for more, just as Reese hoped. On his return, he could feel Finch trembling, feel the tightly clenched fists being pressed defensively yet hesitantly against his bare chest. A slight groan left him at the coy act, his lips parted in an attempt to coerce Finch into participating in the kiss. It wasn't forced, but the older man seemed unsure.

Reese pulled back to assess the situation. Finch held still, breathless and taken aback. After a brief moment, he raised one hand from Reese's chest to his lips, brushing his fingers along their swollen state. He set his hand back to Reese's chest, fingers spread, feeling their way up and around the nape of his neck. The other hand stayed put but spread out to feel the wet, taut skin under the pads of his fingers. His lips parted but the words took a while to form.

Reese growled and swooped back in, capturing Finch's mouth before he could speak. He slipped his tongue between Finch's parted, startled lips, aching to explore the other man's mouth. He balled a fist into the brown hair and curled the other into the back of the black waistcoat Finch was wearing. It was strong and abrasive, not genuinely what Reese thought Finch needed. But, he had been wrong before on rare occasions. Finch pulled at the nape of Reese's neck, hardening the kiss and pulling their bodies closer together. In the shift, the towel dropped and Reese met Finch's sadly clothed body with his bare, unashamed one. They became a mess of wandering hands and breathless, teeth clacking, messy kisses.

Finch was the first to pull away, resting his head to John's shoulder and glancing down the tanned body. Reese arched his back to allow his boss a better view, still trying to stifle the strong urges he had growing inside him.

With a half smirk, Finch gave a short whistle. "I can't possibly keep up with that," he teased, gliding his fingertips down Reese's abdomen to his navel. There he painted an imaginary pattern into the flawless skin, taking his time working his way to the fully erect length still pressing slightly into his hip. He brushed the head first, letting it sink in as Reese began to dig his claws harshly into his stiff shoulders. The pressure vanished as soon as it was applied and Reese braced a hand to the doorframe, bruising the wood with his tight grip and cracking it where his claws pried.

"I have a proposition for you, Mr. Reese. I'm going to bet I can make you climax without touching 'him' directly. If I can, you have to wait until this case is over to advance on me. And please, be gentle. If I can't make you climax, what do you wish of me?"

Reese lowered his head to looked Finch in the eyes. He wanted _him_, all of him, right now. If he demanded it and won, he would get it. Finch was a man of his word. "I can advance on you if you permit anytime we are working a Number. Oh, and another kiss."

Finch laughed under his breath. With his genius, he seemed to overlook the power of Reese's voice. Even before this transformation, he found himself a slave to it. Now, it was like a dark spell e couldn't escape. It took all of his being to turn away from Reese's advances. "Fair enough. Though, I seem to be at an advantage," Finch snorted with a smile as he nodded towards Reese's throbbing length.

"I've been against worse odds," Reese grinned his trademark smirk and set both his forearms against the doorframe, clawing at the wood as he braced himself.

Finch nodded at the settlement. He brought both hands up Reese's chest, lingering over his pecs as he found a place for his lips to rest on Reese's neck. He kissed up behind Reese's ear and hesitated there as he moved his hands, both swooping down and curving around Reese's figure. The skilled fingers stretched across Reese's back and trailed lower, eventually cupping around his ass. Finch teasingly kneaded each cheek in his hands, resuming kissing and nipping at Reese's neck. Reese subtle laugh shook their joined bodies.

"Are you a top, Finch?" Reese nuzzled his head against Finch's, taking care to let his mind wander from the task being performed at hand.

"For you, no. I'd submit on the spot, if you must know," Finch mumbled against Reese's neck.

Reese couldn't help but grin. He tilted his head back, satisfied.

Finch worked Reese's ass a bit more before moving on to the base of the swaying tail and stroking along it. The fur was thick yet fine, soft and very welcoming. Finch suddenly wanted to cuddle that soft feel and never let it go. He pushed those thoughts away for another time and resumed his plan. With a gentle, timed squeeze on the fluffy tail and a harsh, dominant bite on Reese's neck, Finch had Reese quaking, knees trembling and his breath shallow.

"H... Harold," the beast panted, eyes rolled back and his mouth agog. But, he didn't climax.

Finch let out a dissatisfied grunt, pulling his mouth from Reese's neck and observing the string of bruises teeth marks he left. He leaned in to swipe his tongue along it and massaged the erect tail in his hand. These were two sensitive parts of a wolf and Finch was sure it would make Reese melt in his hands. Something was missing, though, because Reese's dark eyes slowly opened and pierced through him like he were prey; a very taunting gaze. His operative was stronger than a few brief bursts of stimulus.

Finch continued to stroke Reese's tail as he stared up into the hard eyes. He was still human and Finch played off that. He caught Reese's lips in a kiss, surprising himself altogether. It was suddenly hot and Finch was flustered. The way Reese's tongue moved off his and delved into his mouth was unbearable. His own body began to shake and his knees grew weak. His hand dropped from the fluffy tail to claw deep red lines into Reese's back. A moan broke their kiss for a brief second. Reese didn't move, waiting for his prey to decide. Finch didn't think, he moved his hands higher on Reese's back, drawing new harsh scratches down his tanned back, and crashing their lips together. Reese dominated it on contact.

Finch shuddered, panting into the rough kiss. His lower half was screaming, grinding unconsciously against Reese's thigh. Reese dropped one hand between them and began to work Finch's belt off. He managed the button and zipper without tearing any clothing, surprisingly, and freed Finch from his confines. He unbuttoned the bottom half of the crumpled dress shirt and brushed it out of the way. His hand slipped beneath the white undershirt and wandered briefly across the smooth, pale skin.

The air was heavy, full of fleeting moans and the deep growl from the beast. Reese watched Finch through slitted eyes, a certain amount of composure surrounding him. His love wasn't a game and he was tired of treating it that way.

Finch's member gave a bounce, finally free. Reese grabbed Finch by his left hip, jerking him forward until their lengths were in full contact and the troublesome shirt was forced out of the way. They rubbed and ground together, creating a hot friction neither had truly experienced before. Finch bucked hard against Reese, biting Reese's lower lip to hold back the sinuous sounds he was making. It didn't last long. He shuddered, clawing, tearing at the back of Reese's shoulders. His head fell back, thankfully being supported by Reese's large hand which was cupping his skull. He shot up both their stomachs, mostly coating Reese's heaving abdomen as the half wolf tried desperately to calm his breathing.

A low chuckle filled the air, dominating over the heavy pants and fleeting moans Finch was making as he came down from the sudden high.

Finch glanced up at Reese, noticing he was resting on the beast who was laughing at him.

"I think that means I won."

Finch couldn't help but laugh himself as he rested his forehead against Reese's shoulder and inhaled his fine scent. He drew his hands back around to Reese's chest and up to his shoulders, forming loose grasps to hold his trembling body up. "I believe so," he finally mumbled.

"Don't get _too_ excited Harold," Reese said with a smirk, draping his left arm around Finch's shoulders and cupping the other around one of Finch's hands. He kissed the messy brown hair as he slipped his hand between their hot bodies, guiding Finch's hand down to his still rock hard manhood. He formed a loose grip with Finch's hand. He started slow, guiding Finch's hand up and down his length, lingering at the head and rubbing Finch's soft palm over it, smearing the thick liquid around.

"Uhn, Harold..." Reese bowed his head, rubbing his hand down through Finch's hair until he cupped the base of his skull and tilted their lips together. It was slow and hesitant. Their lips brushed first and their eyes locked in an intense gaze. Reese turned his head slightly, brushing their lips again, once, then twice, drawing Finch's lip into his mouth to tug on it playfully.

Finch's hand started to move on its own, moving in just the right way that made Reese want to howl. The wolf groaned into the kiss and pressed their foreheads together, melting in Finch's hand just as the computer engineer had hoped. Across his hand and both their stomachs, Reese marked his territory in a way.

They held each other for moments after, Reese tangling his arms around Finch's body and dragging them both to the tile floor. He nuzzled Finch and cuddled him as close as he could. Finch sat sideways in Reese's lap, curling as much into a ball as he could without his hip or neck throbbing.

"I'm glad I left the phone on vibrate," Reese hummed as he let Finch adjust himself in his lap, resting his body against Reese's tanned chest.

"I'm sure you are. Can we clean up?" Finch peeled his shirt from his sweaty body and groaned as he saw the smeared come darkening the fabric.

"Yes, _we_ can." Reese grinned, helping his boss to his unstable feet, tail wagging happily as he led them to the still steaming shower. Finch hesitated by the sliding door, turning to glance back at Reese with a nervous look. Reese only smiled and took the glasses off his nose, placing them on the counter. Next, he started to unbutton the waistcoat and rest of the dress shirt, peeling them both back off Finch's shoulders. He tossed them towards the hamper in the corner.

"Arms up," he instructed softly, beginning to pull the undershirt off. Finch lifted his arms with a slight twinge off pain. Reese quickly peeled the shirt from him, reaching up to cup and bring Finch's arms back down and leaning in to kiss his boss' cheek lightly. He hooked his thumbs in the black, silken briefs Finch was wearing and shoved them down along with his slacks. He offered a shoulder of support as Finch stepped out of his pants and stood bare and embarrassed before Reese, hands reaching to cover his growing erection.

"It's kind of late for late," Reese teased, pulling Finch's hands into his own and leading them both into the hot spray of water.

Finch sighed as the water hit in skin, soothing away all of the pain. He leaned back against Reese who assumed a position behind him as a crutch he could rest freely against. He tilted his face up to the hot water and ran his fingers down his face, reveling in his comforting feel. Or, maybe, that was Reese that was giving him that feeling, the strong hands running up and down his arms, moving to his sides and his hips, soothing all the aches and pains away. It was heavenly and Finch hoped it wouldn't fade when they parted for work.

Reese craned his head of Finch's shoulder to dip his head into the water. He stuck his tongue into it, lapping a bit into his mouth.

Finch raised an arm up to pet Reese's head and between his ears, adoring how Reese let his head drop and his tail started to bat against the sides of the shower.

"You're cute, if I dare say so."

Reese picked his head up, quickly licking Finch's cheek with a wry smile. "That's my line." He ran his large hands up around Finch's hips to his stomach, washing the sweat and the mixed remnants of their come away. Finch hummed at the gentle feel and tilted his head to place a kiss between the grizzled ears. They perked up instantly and Reese let out a low howl. He nuzzled Finch's touch and wrapped a tight hug around the semi-plump body. He brought a hand up to brush back Finch's hair, cupping the back of his head to steal a kiss.

"It's almost time to get going," Finch reminded Reese as kisses were trailed along his jawline to his neck and shoulder. They progressively moved down over his shoulderblades to the nape of his neck, tracing the line of scar tissue.

"Sure thing, boss." Reese pried his hands form Finch's body, swiveling around the older man to exit the shower. He tousled his hair with a towel, ignoring the rest of his body and letting Finch's eyes explore his body without obstruction.

"Any clothes I can borrow?" Reese tossed a glance over his shoulder, smiling at the way Finch gawked at his body.

"Closet in the bedroom." Finch ducked back into the shower, avoiding Reese's gaze.

"I'll pull something out for you. Call me if you miss me, Finch." And, his voice faded into the hallway.

Finch turned his head up to feel the water wash over his skin. It felt colder, lonelier now that Reese was gone. But, work was calling and Samantha needed them. He could have Reese later, all of him whenever he wanted, he just had to ask. That was what Reese had planned. Finch began to crave his feel, his touch, his skin, his voice, his gentle yet possessive caress. Oh, this game his operative was playing was far from fair, but he didn't really care. The faster he got Samantha out of danger, the faster he could make his move on Reese and finally have all of him.


End file.
